


Some People Are Better Off Dead

by luci_goosey



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 6th year, Angst, Blink And You Miss It Slash, Drarry, Forgive Me, Hogwarts Era, M/M, Slash, barely slash, im so sorry, pls forgive my sins, so much angst im internally crying, why did I write this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-01
Updated: 2016-08-01
Packaged: 2018-07-28 15:10:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7646059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luci_goosey/pseuds/luci_goosey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You can't undo your past, and you can't redo it either. Life never gives you second chances, only nearly identical recreations that remind you of every little thing you fucked up the first time. In a moment of great significance, in an almost-but-not-quite second chance, we tend to hesitate; and that hesitation is either very wise, or inexplicably stupid.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Some People Are Better Off Dead

**Author's Note:**

> this is forever unbetaed and I apologize. one day I will go back and fix/edit this one shot,,,, but today is not that day,,

 

 

 

 

 

It had started in the bathroom, so it only seemed right to end it there, right?

 

The blood - there had been so much blood – pooled around him, painting the otherwise dirty, and scuffed stone floor crimson. It had been an accident, an irresponsible action that should have never happened. But it did. It could've been prevented. Harry could've deflected Draco's spells, he could've let them fall to the floor but not raise his wand as a threat. He could've made Draco even more vulnerable, tore down the last few stones that he had placed oh, so carefully to build a wall around his heart, and been close enough he could've touched it if he had reached out his hand. He could've been patient, talked more, resisted the temptation that nagged at his Slytherin within, telling him to "get him while he's down!" and threw his wand aside. He could've made his way towards Draco, and despite Draco's protests screaming and tears streaming, promised he wouldn't hurt Draco- he only wanted to help- and asked him what was wrong. He could've forced Draco into a hug and shushed him and reassured him everything would be okay and comfort him. He could've done it right the first time and none of this would've ever happened. But it had happened and all he could do was look back on it and see everything he did wrong and blame himself.

 

The next day, he could've apologized to Draco. He could've asked how it felt, asked if it left a scar – of course it did, that kind of a wound wouldn't just disappear.

The next day, he could've apologized to Draco. He could've told him how much he regretted the fight and that he needed to talk to Draco and get every thought that had been racing through his mind since he cast the spell laid out before them. He needed Draco to know he was sorry. He could've said something, but he didn't.

The following week, when Draco winced when someone brushed against his chest accidentally, or bumped into it purposely, he could've asked if it still hurt. He could've asked if it was a throbbing pain or more of a sharp piercing pain. He could've offered to walk him to the hospital wing to get something to ease the pain that was obviously still there. He could've walked him to class. He could've done something.

 

 

Weeks went by and Draco sunk inside himself, withdrawing from everyone around him; Harry noticed. Harry noticed how Draco wouldn't talk with anyone in his shared classes. Draco didn't tease nor poke fun, he didn't even have mundane conversations with his housemates: he was silent, gaze down, work done early, ready to leave. He was almost never at meals, always at the end of the Slytherin table, food finished and getting up to leave by the time everyone else was entering. He had already had his eye on Draco, making sure he stayed in line and didn't cause any havoc, or at least that's what he told himself he was watching him for. But at this point, Harry knew there was some part of him that was looking for something else. If he had been watching closer, maybe he would've noticed what was actually happening with Draco sooner and prevented it. If he had been watching as closely as possible, maybe he would've seen how scared Draco really was and that he didn't really want to do this. He could've asked Draco why he became so cut-off and reserved. Harry could've asked Draco why he had stopped dedicating all his spare time and then some into teasing, mocking, pestering, annoying, and getting into fights with Harry, but Harry couldn't remember when exactly it all had stopped. He traced it back to before the bathroom fight, but he knew it had probably stopped sooner than that.  
Harry could've tried to talk to Draco one day, using the excuse that Draco "didn't seem to have any friends anymore," and actually attempt to get to know the single person that he assumed could tear all of them apart and cause their downfall. He could've let himself begin to be concerned with him so much sooner, not wasting so much time, not waiting until it was too late. But Harry watched how as time past Draco's state only worsened, yet he did nothing

 

When a Slytherin tripped Draco in the Great Hall, and everyone went silent, he could've helped Draco up or at least asked if he was alright. He could've done something other than sit at his table in silence and watch as Draco slowly stood up, brushing off his robes and not bringing his gaze up from the floor as he walked calmly out of the room.

When a Ravenclaw stuck his foot out on the stairs, Harry's heart caught in his throat and he would be lying if he said he wasn’t glad Draco fell up the stairs. He watched as Draco caught himself before his face slammed into the stone stairs. Draco's nose dripped blood and it dripped onto the stairs – an image of blood pooling over a white stone floor flashed behind Harry's eyes. Harry saw the panic cross Draco's face as he realized if he had fallen backwards, the extent of his injuries could've been fatal. And they were intended. Harry could've stopped the Ravenclaw, or told a teacher, or done something instead of standing there until Draco gathered himself and walked away, watching his footing much more closely.

When a Hufflepuff shoved into Draco as he was hurrying to potions and purposely caused his books, parchment, and ink well to tumble out of his arms and spill onto the floor, painting it and his parchment of all his completed assignments black, he could've helped Draco pick them up, or at least told the Hufflepuff that was rude, or at least pretended like he hadn't seen it happen, or at least helped explain to the teacher why Draco's reports weren't done instead of watching Draco apologize and take a seat as he was given detention for the next week. But when he didn't say a word or make a move to help, or explain what had happened, he tried to convince himself it was okay, because Draco deserved that after all he had done to the students over the years.

When a Gryffindor purposely bumped into Draco in the Library and Draco's eyes met him as his books fell and Draco fell with them, and Harry's heart fell with them too, Harry could've said something. Harry should've said something. It was his housemate, his friend, someone who shared a bed in his dorm, he should've done something. But Harry watched as Draco picked himself up and pushed past Harry, not meeting Harry's eyes.

There was no where for Draco to go, no one to turn to, not one house upheld its values, they all pushed him away and Harry pushed him away as well.

 

 

 

If Harry had really been curious for the safety and wellbeing of the entire student body, he could've followed Draco one day when he was walking to the Room of Requirement. It's not like Draco tried to hide where he was going - he didn't check if anyone was following him, he didn't listen for trailing footsteps, he didn’t try to sneak about. He was loud, he was careless, he was so bloody obvious and why didn't Harry see it sooner. He is Harry Potter. He could've followed Draco, and broken in and discovered what was happening within the very walls of the castle that was supposed to be the safest place in all of the wizarding world. He could've caught Draco, he could've stopped Draco, it's not like Draco was trying not to get caught. He could've seen it and stopped it before it has started, and saved many, many lives that would eventually be lost- or just one, one that had lost its way so long ago, and had been screaming for help ever since. But the screaming had stopped after he had realized no one was coming, because no one wanted to save him. No one cared about what happened to him. No one was looking out for him- not Voldemort, not his father, not his mother, not Dumbledore, not Harry- and why, why hadn't Harry been watching out for him? Six years of hatred does not justify what Harry didn't do.

When Draco didn't show up to dinner that night Harry rushed out of the Great Hall after he had hastily shoved the food on his plate into his mouth, and into a vacant corridor to check the map, only to find Draco in his dormitory. Harry leaned his head back against the wall and let out a breath. He kept his eye on the small marking labeled Draco Malfoy as he went back to his dormitory to finish up reports that were already overdo, and until the only noise that filled his ears was the snoring and the only light left on was coming from his wand- but not once did it move. He kept his eye on it, for the safety of others, those he cared about. He could've cared about the very person he couldn't tear his eyes away from. But he didn't.

When Draco didn't show up to any of the meals or shared classes the next day, Harry hastily pulled out his map at the first moment he had alone after dinner. Draco's marking hadn't moved from the spot it had stayed in all last night. When Harry noticed this, he could've put on his invisibility cloak and wandered down to the dungeons. He could've went to go see what Draco was doing, sitting, standing, staying unmoving for hours, upon hours, upon hours, upon hours.  
He would've found Draco, on the edge of his bed, still dressed in yesterday's robes. He would've found a broken boy with his eyes swollen, and nose runny, and throat dry, and head throbbing. He would've found a weary soul seemingly on the brink of just giving up and just giving in- because living had become such a difficult thing, and it honestly just didn’t seem worth the trouble, because his life would cost innocent lives that deserved so much better, and he had lost the right to live so, so long ago.

 

When Draco did come to breakfast the next morning, the Great Hall grew quiet. Everyone was holding their breath and then someone awkwardly coughed. Then someone said something, and someone else snickered, and Draco put his head down and turned around and hurried out because Draco could tell when he wasn't wanted somewhere. Harry stood and rushed out after him, pulling out his map as soon as he was out of the Great Hall because Draco had already gotten a good head start. Harry followed a horribly familiar route that wound through hallways and scaled staircases, and he reluctantly entered the bathroom to find an all too familiar scene that had haunted his mind and Harry nearly tucked tail and ran. Against his mind screaming at him to turn around, it wasn't too late to leave, he approached Draco.

 

He expected Draco to whip around and confront him with his wand pointed at Harry's chest as he had last time, but this wasn't last time, and Draco was far more broken than he had ever been before. Draco was falling to pieces one tear at a time and Harry had been so blind how had he not noticed then? Why hadn't he cared? Draco didn't turn around, he didn't speak a word, he only wept into his palms. With his eyes squeezed shut so tightly he didn't think he could open them ever again, he wished to be swallowed whole and to cease to exist, and to cease to cause pain to those he cared about even if they didn't care about him, even if they hated him for all the hateful things he had said and done and the persona he had dawned to protect them from what he had to live with. Even if they hated him for all he did to keep them as far away from him as he could so that they could live good lives, making all the right choices, and not care about him. But Draco wanted them to- Merlin, did he want them, someone, to - care about him. He wanted to be enveloped in a warm embrace, held dearly, closely, tightly, securely, surely. He wanted to feel cared for. He wanted to feel a little less empty and a little less alone. But he didn't.

Harry called out, but Draco kept crying because he had already known Harry was there. Harry called out again and Draco's cries quieted, and Harry thought it was progress. In the moments of silence when neither of them moved, millions of thoughts crossed Harry's mind, so many questions ran through his head, but not once did he stop to ask himself what the fuck was he doing and why didn't he try harder to help? Harry slowly walked closer and noticed Draco had still been crying, ever so softly. Hesitantly, as if Draco might spin around at any moment and hex him, Harry placed his hand on Draco's shoulder so gently it was almost a ghost of a touch, and Draco began crying harder. His body was racked with uncontrollable sobs, his shoulders shaking. Harry told him in a soft voice that he wanted to help. With tears rolling down his cheeks and falling on the counter top, Draco laughed a choked, bitter laugh and looked up and into Harry's eyes in the reflection of the mirror. He told Harry how ironic it was that he, The Boy Who Lived, wanted to help The Boy Who Royally Fucked Up, and how he was far too late, and maybe if Draco hadn't fucked up so bad everything would be okay and there would still be a chance to fix everything. He told Harry that maybe if the world hadn't been fucked up so bad it would be a better place for all the people who didn't deserve to live in fear of dying at the hand of anything other than old age. His eyes bore holes into Harry through the mirror as he spoke with such bitterness and regret it stunned Harry to silence. He spoke about how if he hadn't fucked up he could have protected his loved ones without costing those innocent their lives, and everything could've been so much different. But now, now it's far too late, and he's far too weak, and he had fallen into a tragic romance with all the would've's and could've's and everything he should've done and wished it all would've been his reality. He smiled a broken, raw smile with tears that had trailed down his cheeks resting in the corners of his mouth and turned to face Harry, who quite frankly was speechless, and looked him dead in the eyes and asked Harry to kill him before he caused anyone else to die. He grabbed Harry's hand that was gripped around his wand and brought it up so the tip was on his heart and begged Harry to kill him, to end his life before he took another. Harry looked him hard in the eyes and softly told Draco that he wouldn't kill him with enough sincerity to break Draco even further.

 

Frustrated, angry, Draco shoved Harry away and pulled out his wand, but Harry was quick and disarmed and bound Draco in place before he could blink. Harry slowly walked over and picked Draco's wand off the floor, not taking his eyes off of Draco. Tears overflowed and Draco glared at Harry with all the hate he had in his small, dying body, and promised he would kill himself the next chance he got. Harry refused to let that happen, and Draco demanded to know why- it's not like he cares about Draco anyways, unless hating someone suddenly became the same thing as caring. Harry averted his eyes and said there had to be another way and they could figure this out together, without anyone dying, and that hatred for someone is not the same as wishing death upon someone, and no one as, as – as... no one as lost, as cornered without another option, as scared as Draco was, deserved to die. He said he could never wish death on Draco, no matter how much hatred they had built up over the years. Draco laughed bitterly again and promised Harry he would wish death on Draco if he knew everything Draco had done, just lift up his left sleeve and he would have enough motive. Draco pretended not to see Harry glance at his left forearm that was safely concealed by his shirt. Harry was silent. Draco smiled sadly and told Harry some people are better off dead.

Harry turned to look at Draco, to really look, and he saw hurt, and pain, suffering, fear, pleading, and a cry for help hidden so deeply in his eyes, and Harry reached out a hand to cup Draco's face. He unbound Draco, but didn't move. He promised Draco he could help, he would help, he could save him from whatever he was held captive by. Draco smiled again and told him some people don't wish to be saved Harry, they wish to be dead, and left as the last word fell from his lips.

Harry stood there, his hand still in mid air, for a long minute, a long hour, a long time- just standing there. His mind was blank, he had no idea what to do. His heart was screaming for him to rush out and find Draco and promise him he would do everything in his power to keep him safe. His heart was aching with such a pain that had been only reserved for his makeshift family and Harry started to wonder when had he stopped hating Draco and when had he started caring about him? Harry's mind overruled his heart and he knew he couldn't decide yet- maybe he could ask Dumbledore what to do? Why didn't he just make up his mind then? After a while, he slowly lowered his hand and left.  
Draco had left to go to the dungeons, but as he exited the bathroom and walked down the hall, he stopped just around the corner. He waited, listening. He waited for silent hours, with nothing but his breath in his ears. He waited until he heard Harry's footsteps, and every part of his body was crying out to go to Harry and scream at him that he wanted to be saved, he wanted to be helped, he wanted to live. He listened as Harry's footsteps faded away, as Harry went the other way and left Draco alone in the corridor, feeling as if the last part of himself walked away when Harry did. Draco smiled bitterly and whispered to himself, "And here for a moment, I thought you really cared."

 

 

Harry sat in bed in the darkness illuminated by his dim wand light, staring at the marking in the Astronomy Tower labeled Draco Malfoy on his map. He sat there until the darkness wasn't as dark, but the snoring kept on, just watching the map. He watched as the morning light began to filter in through the window as the sun rose. He glanced out his window for a moment and caught the beautiful morning colors exploding across the sky. He though to himself, what a beautiful sunrise, and turned back to the map to find the name slowly fading until it disappeared from the map entirely. He felt his body go cold and his stomach drop, and he stared at the map until he didn't need his wand light and the snoring ceased and it was time to go to the Great Hall.

 

 

 

 

Harry's eyes couldn't leave the door as he waited with an emptiness expanding in his stomach to see Draco walk through the doors to the Great Hall and take his seat across the Hall as if nothing had happened and Harry hadn't fucked up and he was still alive.

 

 

 

But he didn't.


End file.
